


Hurricane Drunk

by dawittiest



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts, blink and you miss it carol/wanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5312342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawittiest/pseuds/dawittiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After quitting the Avengers Carol goes on a flight over the city, deals poorly with her feelings and makes herself a promise.</p><p>Missing scene from <i>Avengers Vol. 3 #7</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> These tags may look a little intimidating but actually nothing graphic happens in the story (hence no Archive Warnings). It’s just to be safe. There may be minor inconsistencies with the events in canon, mostly for the sake of dramatics, you know, _licentia poetica_ , just roll with it. It’s a character study (kind of) anyway.
> 
> Unsurprisingly the story is titled after _Hurricane Drunk_ by Florence + The Machine which I was listening to for three days straight while writing it. Lyrics are irrelevant I just liked the title and the mood of the song for this fic.
> 
> Also when I say “blink and you miss it Carol/Wanda” I mean it. I’d love to give this ship more focus but it just didn’t fit the narrative. I wanted to stress that so if you catch yourself wondering “wait, did she just imply…?” YES, YES I DID. THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS GOING FOR. A+++ FOR YOU, READER. #CAROL/WANDA IS REAL.
> 
>  
> 
> _Anyway._
> 
>  
> 
> Much obliged to [ravenisthegem](http://ravenisthegem.tumblr.com/) and [autumnchris](http://autumnchris.tumblr.com/) for beta!

The cold touch of air is pleasantly soothing to her burning skin. It’s a warm September night, but up in the sky the temperature is low. She flew here hoping it would help her clear her mind but tonight even flight isn’t enough. Flying has always put things into perspective; the New York City glimmering below her with strings of illuminated streets, moving dots of cars, and bright windows of skyscrapers and apartments, myriad of lights, as many as its’ people, each living in their private little worlds down there – it’s just as astounding as it used to be when she was admiring it from the plane. She will never get tired of that view. It might seem strange, but being up here, over the heads of New Yorkers, it helps ground her. Reminds her why she keeps going.

Carol feels white-hot inside like a liquid metal is flowing through her veins. She’s burning up; the rush of icy cold wind is not cooling her down anymore. She’s climbing, higher and higher, fueled by the alcohol and rage that kept her going since she escaped from that awful claustrophobic room and the accusing eyes of her friends.

After she stormed out of the Mansion Carol only stopped to get rid of her things before soaring into the sky, trying to ease the unsettling thrumming in every muscle in her body and work out the terrible feeling of hurt, making her eyes sting with humiliating tears of anger. Her packed boxes must still be scattered where she tossed them on a sidewalk. But Carol can’t find it in herself to care about this right now, all rational thoughts lost to the raging storm of emotions.

She can’t get over the feeling how _unfair_ it is; they were supposed to be her friends, not a bench of judges and they had _no right_ to call her out publicly like they did. She considered the Avengers her family; but it was obvious from the beginning that she didn’t belong, she didn’t share Wanda’s and Vison’s history, Tony’s and Steve’s secret rapport, Thor’s easy camaraderie - they were pretending to include her in their little group but in the end the Avengers is a private club, only for the chosen, and she clearly isn’t that. They’re judgmental assholes, even though they like to pretend differently; Tony, always knowing better, and Steve, with his holier-than-thou attitude, convinced that everything is Captain America’s business. Her supposed drinking problem is _hers_ to deal with – which she doesn’t have, by the way, thank you very much. She can have a few drinks and stay in control; Carol has a strong self-discipline, she’s military, and she is a big girl, she can take care of herself and if _some_ people need somebody constantly watching over their ass…

 _They would_ never _throw Tony out like that_ , she thinks bitterly.

And _Wanda_ , she’s what stung the most. Wanda, who listened and supported her, to whom she reached out seeking alliance, and who turned back on her like all the others and threw her out to the wolves. But Wanda’s old guard too, and apparently going way back with Captain America means more to her than whatever she might have with Carol. Wanda always picked everyone else before her, Cap, and Simon, and-

She _doesn’t_ have a drinking problem. She’s not an alcoholic. If she were, she’d be completely dependent on the alcohol, and she’s _not_. She drinks, yes, but she can stop anytime she wants.

So what if she doesn’t want to? Her drinking doesn’t get in the way of doing her job, whatever anyone says. That’s all that should matter. And even if Carol has a drink before taking on a supervillain, well, it’s one crazy business they’re in, and everyone copes differently.

Carol knows how this sounds but it’s not _that_. She doesn’t drink to forget. She doesn’t need it just to get through the day. There’s a reason why Carol keeps reaching back for the bottle but it has nothing to do with dependency or oblivion.

The truth is… alcohol makes her feel invincible. Like she can take on anyone, like nothing can stand in her way. Feelings of inadequacy, fear that she’s not pulling her weight compared to others – it all disappears and Carol can finally become the best person she has a potential to be. She doesn’t mind the alcohol but the power… it’s the power what’s intoxicating. And she feels it, raw charges going through her system, on the verge of overload, and it’s a feeling she could get addicted to.

Carol knows how it is to feel helpless. She’s been exposed and vulnerable, and taken advantage of, had somebody else’s control enforced on her. It’s an awful feeling and Carol never wants to feel it again. Be in that place again. She misses her Binary powers like a lost limb; but in those moments… when she’s soaring over the city, alcohol circling in her bloodstream, she almost feels close to that connection. So close that if she tries hard enough the power seems to be within her grasp once again.

She doesn’t need the power source. She _is_ the power. She’s the force of nature, she’s a hurricane, and she’s going to crush everything in her path.

Carol’s head is spinning and she’s almost scared but she’s mostly struck by awe, because the other Avengers can see it too, can’t they, that’s what they were afraid of, she’s a hurricane and she’s beyond control and how could they ever hope to restrain her?

 _“Let us help you. I get it, believe me, I was in your shoes and I didn’t want help then either but whether you realize it or not, you_ need _it…”_

Carol gains altitude, pushing herself to the limits, urging her body to go faster, higher, _more,_ but it’s still not good enough, it’s never good enough-

_“I’ve seen myself go down this route. Do you want to know where it ends?”_

She’s a bolt of fire, a lightning, a falling star, and there’s no stopping now, it can only end in supernova, she’ll either explode or burn out to the ground-

_“It ends with you in a hotel room, alone, and drinking yourself to death.”_

Fuck _Tony_ , Carol thinks with force.                              

_It’s his story, not mine._

She twists her lips spitefully and lets herself feel the full strength of the resentment boiling inside her.

_If I want to drink myself to death, I will._

Carol’s soaring through the dark sky, racing so fast like never before, and it’s the most exhilarating experience in her life. Before her the space is infinite and Carol’s not sensitive to this sort of thing, not like Wanda, but the feeling is near transcendental. She’s never felt so close to the heart of the universe like in this very moment. Up here her problems seem trivial, and the Avengers’ approval loses the importance she used to attach to it. All worries escape her; their meaning belongs down with the life she left on Earth.

_So far away, in the dark, I could just as well be dead._

Carol abruptly stops and hovers uncertainly over the city.

She doesn’t want that; it’s cowardice, it’s not becoming an Avenger, and she’s better than that. She _must_ be better than that because they can’t be right about her, she’s not an alcoholic and she doesn’t have a death wish, she’s doesn’t even know where this thought came from…

It starts raining.

She should head back. The boxes with her things must be getting wet.

 _Head back_. As if she has to where. Not for the first time in her life, Carol feels completely lost. She doesn’t have a purpose. She doesn’t have a plan. She doesn’t have a place to live now, too. What is she supposed to do? Go back to Boston, move in with her mom? Return to the Avengers, with a tail between her legs, begging for forgiveness?

A burning shame curls in her stomach and Carol _hates_ the Avengers for this. For making her feel so damn small.

Carol turns her face from the city and looks up to the sky; she can see billions of stars, visible here over the smog. The vastness of space, like usual, is hypnotizing, and if she let it, it would swallow her whole.

Going out in a blast seems tempting.

She jerks violently, away from the stars above and looks at the city lights flickering just like stars below. This is it; it’s what they all think, that she’s irresponsible and self-destructive, that she’s gonna waste her life with drinking, all the reasons why they wanted to kick her off the Avengers, and she’d be proving them right.

 _I won’t let that happen_ , Carol thinks with solidifying conviction. She shoots one last glance over her shoulder and starts slowly making her way back to the city.

She’ll prove she’s better than that. She’ll be the best version of herself and she’ll make them swallow their words and it will be _them_ who’ll be ashamed and begging her for forgiveness.

She won’t end up in that hotel room.

It’s pouring, and her clothes are soaked with rain, her hair hanging in sad streaks around her face. Carol thinks that the cardboard boxes must have completely melted into a pulp by now; she hopes all her belongings are still there.

It’s frightening and frankly, degrading; she’ll have to figure her life out all over again, start from scratch. Build herself up from nothing. But it’s okay, she can do this. She’s done that before.

And she’s _done_ with the Avengers; if they can’t recognize her value it’s on them. She’s better than they give her credit for. She’s doesn’t _need_ alcohol to be invincible. She’s a damn good superhero in her own right. They’ll see.

 _At least it’s as bad as it gets_ , she thinks to herself and the thought is oddly comforting.


End file.
